


a home for lost hearts

by maleficent_birdsong



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Chronic Illness, Expect a lot of Simon whump, F/M, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Jericho is now an LGBTQ youth homeless shelter, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Transphobia, Whump, gotta have some fluff, not yet, one of the Jericho crew is trans but I'm not telling you who
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maleficent_birdsong/pseuds/maleficent_birdsong
Summary: Connor is the adopted son of Lieutenant Hank Anderson, who took him in after finding him alone at a crime scene with nearly all of his memories gone. Still struggling to adjust to his new life, Hank suggests that Connor find a productive way to spend his free time, which leads Connor to a homeless shelter called "Jericho", where he hopes to find new friends and a purpose.One detail Connor hasn't mentioned to Hank: the shelter is specifically for LGBTQ youth.





	a home for lost hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first attempt at a DBH fanfic, and it's a human AU. Expect to see the usual Jericho crew (especially Markus and Simon) as well as lots of OCs as the inhabitants of the shelter. Kara, Luther, Alice, Ralph, and the Jerry's will appear at a later time in the story. More tags will probably be added as the story goes on, so keep a heads up in case I add something that you don't want to see! There will be eventual sexy times, of course. Will Connor find true love? Maybe!

Jericho.  
  
  
Connor had heard the word before, but only used for references to Christianity and Judaism.  
  
  
He wondered if it meant something religious here, too.  
  
  
A loud victory, a glorious triumph.  
  
  
Or protective walls that would come crumbling down.  
  
  
He stared at the rusty sign above the building.  
  
_  
Jericho.  
  
_  
Next to the word was a small square composed of seven horizontal stripes in the colors of the rainbow and a heart shape cut out in the center.  
  
  
This was not the biblical city, but rather a homeless shelter.  
  
  
An LGBTQ homeless shelter, the website had proclaimed.  
  
  
Doing much research yielded that Jericho was founded in the last three years, though the building in which it operated was obviously much older. Weeds sprung up from the cracks in the concrete. Dust and dirt made most of the windows practically opaque. A small, rectangular mailbox was haphazardly nailed to the wall near the entrance, bearing numerous dents and signs of oxidation. The latest door in the frame (if all the old rust marks from previous hinges were any indication) was made of sturdy metal, though it already had scuffs and scratches.  
  
  
The building wasn't very large considering its current purpose, but it was noticeably bigger than most of the other, more run-down buildings on the street. Most of them weren't even occupied, surrounded by tall chainlink fences and covered in graffiti, and the dilapidated buildings that did have residents had overgrown lawns littered with plastic debris, concrete blocks on the porches, and beat-up cars in the driveways.  
  
  
Connor kept his hands in his pockets, clutching his cell phone tightly.  
  
  
He knew this was a dangerous part of town.  
  
  
Yet the thought of being here, away from his familiar neighborhood, his warm home, from the ever-watchful eye and overbearing protectiveness of his adoptive father, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, gave him a slight thrill that sent a shiver down his spine.  
  
  
He had dressed in the plainest clothes he could find in his closet: he chose an old brown hoodie bearing the logo of one of Hank's favorite sports teams and a pair of jeans that had frayed edges around the bottoms and a small hole on the left knee.  
  
  
He still felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. Something about his stiff, almost unnatural posture, his urge to fidget with his hands, the need to inspect every small detail of the area, the way he stared too long without blinking.  
  
  
He was very much an outsider, and he didn't like the feeling at all. Not that he wasn't familiar with it, but he worried that looking too out of place in this situation might be more dangerous than usual.  
  
  
A barking dog in the distance made him jump slightly, and it was then that Connor decided that he had lingered suspiciously in front of the building long enough. He steeled his nerves and approached the door, ringing the doorbell on the side. The muffled sound of a harsh buzzer emanated from behind the door, and he waited for a response.

Silence.  
  
  
He let about ten seconds pass before buzzing again, then giving the door three solid knocks.

Still no answer.

He frowned, nervousness gathering in his gut uncomfortably, but determined to accomplish his self-assigned task. He had to go inside. He had to take a chance on these people.  
  
  
Maybe they would understand him. Maybe they could help him figure things out, and hopefully he could help them somehow in return.  
  
  
His reluctance to discuss certain _issues_ with Hank was only part of the reason he found himself here. It was Hank's own suggestion that Connor get out of the house more and find something to do with his unfortunate abundance of free time, considering that the youth was still labeled unfit for true employment. Hank had then offered the idea of volunteering, and Connor jumped at the chance.  
  
  
He felt slightly guilty that he hadn't told Hank where he was going, but he figured it was better to ask for forgiveness after the fact than permission first. He checked the time on his phone. Hank's shift had just started and wouldn't be over for at least another eight hours, barring any sort of incidents or sudden case breakthroughs.  
  
  
That had given Connor plenty of time to get dressed and take his carefully-planned route to the shelter consisting of two buses and a three-mile walk. The weather wasn't too cold, but it was brisk enough that Connor considered the hoodie a good choice in retrospect.  
  
  
Connor's brow furrowed as he approached the door again, this time attempting to simply open it.  
  
  
And surprisingly, it did open.  
  
  
He cautiously peeked inside before stepping through the doorway, immediately taking in all the details of the small front room. A large corkboard covered in various flyers and a calendar marked with numerous scribbles of hurried handwriting hung behind what appeared to be a makeshift reception desk made from a large slab of poorly-polished wood balanced unsteadily by thin posts of a darker-colored wood. He gave it a gentle nudge and it wobbled slightly under the pressure.  
  
  
There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right, and from the right door, Connor could hear the soft sound of chattering voices just above the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. He wondered if he should go in further or perhaps stay and wait at the front desk, just to see if someone would eventually appear.  
  
  
Suddenly, the door on the left swung open and a blonde man started to enter the room before freezing in his tracks, peering at Connor nervously as he clung to the door. He was very pale, almost sickly-looking, and he wore what looked like a surgical face mask, which he pulled down to speak.  
  
  
“Hello... Can I help you?” His voice was quiet and soft.  
  
  
Connor straightened up, trying his best to look professional. “I'm looking for whoever is in charge here,” he spoke formally, keeping his hands to his sides.  
  
  
The blonde stranger looked a bit worried, raising an eyebrow. “Huh? Do you need a place to stay?”  
  
  
Connor shook his head. “No, um... I was actually hoping to volunteer here. If you need volunteers, that is.”  
  
  
The blonde's face perked up immediately. “Oh! Well, we always need helpers. I'll go find Markus right away. Wait here, please.” He ducked away, coughing quietly as he shut the door, and left Connor to himself again.  
  
  
Connor began to fidget with his hands while the stranger was away. He really wished he had brought his quarter. He settled on wiggling his fingers and tapping them gently against his sides.  
  
  
The door swung open again and an authoritative voice caused him to jump. “You wanted to speak with me?” A taller man with a shaved head entered the room, followed closely by the blonde man, who was hovering behind him eagerly. This new person had a slightly intimidating aura, but his countenance was gentle and calm. He had heterochromia – one green eye, one blue. Connor was slightly in awe of this.  
  
  
“Um, yes. Are you in charge? I was hoping to speak with someone about possibly volunteering here.”  
  
  
The taller man had a kind laugh. He stepped forward. “Yes, I'm in charge. My name is Markus. And your name?”  
  
  
“Connor. Connor Anderson.” Connor stiffly stuck out his hand, which Markus shook firmly.  
  
  
“Nice to meet you, Connor. And welcome to Jericho. What made you decide to want to volunteer at our humble little shelter?”  
  
  
“Hank – um, my father... he's busy with work all day and right now I am unable to acquire a job due to...” He hesitated, wringing his hands. “Medical reasons. So he thinks I should try to find a good way to spend my time instead of staying at home by myself, and he suggested volunteering somewhere. I heard about this shelter and thought it would be... compatible?” He frowned a little, unsure of which words to use.  
  
  
Markus smiled gently. “We could always use extra hands. Yours look like they could use some busy work,” he mentioned playfully, looking at Connor's still-fidgeting hands. He was a bit embarrassed about it, but the stranger had no malice in his tone.  
  
  
“I'm very good at cleaning and doing basic chores,” Connor offered. “I am also quite proficient with paperwork. Hank – my dad, he sometimes brings files home that he needs help sorting, and I also help him fix his computer, too. Nothing too complicated, but I know how to use it a lot better than he does.”  
  
  
“Well, Connor, I guess we're both in luck, because all of those things are definitely the types of tasks we need help with. There's always blankets and clothes to be washed, rooms to be cleaned, and Simon here has been stuck with all paperwork and filing duties for ages,” he laughed, lightly rubbing the blonde's back, who smiled shyly in return.  
  
  
“I – I'm glad to be of help, I'll do anything you need of me,” Connor stammered eagerly.  
  
  
Something lit up in Markus' eyes. “You do seem very enthusiastic. Tell me, Connor, is there a reason you chose Jericho in particular? There are plenty of homeless shelters here in Detroit, and ours is quite small, and, as you can probably tell, woefully understaffed and underfunded. It's not the prettiest to look at and it's not in a very nice neighborhood, either. You would probably feel safer in a different location, wouldn't you?”  
  
  
“Well, one would assume that a shelter in this location and in such disrepair would obviously need more assistance than a newer-looking one -” Connor began, but he snapped his mouth shut, realizing too late that his words had probably sounded incredibly rude. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that-”  
  
  
The taller man laughed again. “It's alright, we don't take offense to that. This was scraped together pretty quickly, to be honest.”  
  
  
Connor straightened up and began again. “Well, I was particularly interested in this shelter because...” His face turned slightly pink and he looked away. “... Because this one is specifically aimed at housing LGBTQ youths. I feel that is, um... quite an overlooked group, and I thought it would be more meaningful to help here instead of at one of the bigger shelters that aren't so... specific.” He twiddled his thumbs, his face continuing to heat up.  
  
  
Markus stepped forward again, close enough to put a gentle hand on Connor's shoulder. Connor flinched a tiny bit, but he didn't push the man away.  
  
  
“Does helping this community mean a lot to you, Connor?” he asked quietly.  
  
  
Connor's face was completely red now. Simon tried to hold back a laugh and instead started coughing again.  
  
  
“I... well, that is...” Connor couldn't look the tall man in the face. Not just because he was incredibly handsome, but because it felt like if Connor stared into those non-matching eyes too long, the stranger would be able to practically read his mind. He swallowed hard, still not shrugging away from Markus' warm touch. “I feel like I can... relate... to the community,” he began. “I have been diagnosed as autistic, and thus I am quite familiar with the feeling of being ostracized due to... differences... from the general population. I also...” He bit his lip, finding himself unable to continue.  
  
  
“Take your time, Connor.” Markus' voice was soothing for some reason. “There's no judgement here.”  
  
  
Connor let out a shaky breath. “I... I believe I may... identify... s-somewhere in the... community,” he managed stiffly. “I've noticed recently that I find myself more and more drawn towards...” Another hard swallow. “Towards people of the same gender.”  
  
  
“So you're saying you think you're homosexual?” Simon clarified.  
  
  
Connor squeaked in surprise, but he nodded. “Yes, in simpler terms,” he murmured. “I was hoping that by working here, I could not only learn more about the community as a whole, but also learn more about myself in the process. I... I wasn't certain if that was a good enough reason to come here, but I wanted to at least ask.”  
  
  
“That's a perfectly acceptable reason, Connor,” said Markus, smiling again and finally removing his hand from Connor's shoulder. Connor realized that he really liked it when this man said his name. It had such a friendly sound, like they had known each other for ages. “There's nothing wrong with wanting to explore your sexuality by meeting others who share the same orientation. And like I said before, we need all the help we can get. We would love to make a place for you here.”  
  
  
Connor's face lit up. “Really? I'm not being too much of a bother?”  
  
  
Markus' laughter was a bit louder this time, but no less full of friendliness. “Of course not. We here at Jericho pride ourselves as a home for those who are lost in more ways than one. We not only offer shelter, food, and clothing for homeless youth, but we also offer counseling services. Our friend Josh is the main counselor here -”  
  
  
“You mean the only counselor,” the blonde man corrected.  
  
  
“For now,” Markus chided him. “And North helps, sometimes, though it's mostly with those who have anger management issues or... very _deep_ trauma. Anyway, our humble little shelter may not have much right now, but we're doing our best to provide for those in need using what we have. And I'm more than certain that we can offer you some guidance in exchange for a little work helping us fix up the place and keep it running. Still interested?”  
  
  
Connor nodded, a huge smile forming on his face. “Yes, yes! I'll do my best, so please tell me what I can do for you.”  
  
  
“Well, I've got a huge to-do list right here -” laughed the blonde man, pointing at the calendar, but Markus shot him a warning look, though there was a twinkle in his eyes that betrayed a certain playfulness.  
  
  
“Let's start with introductions for now, okay? You've met me, but I'll introduce myself again. I'm Markus Manfred, head of operations here at Jericho.”  
  
  
“Means he's the big wig in charge,” smirked the blonde.  
  
  
Markus shot him another playful look. “And this smart mouth is my partner, Simon. Like I said before, he's in charge of pretty much _all_ the paperwork and technical stuff for now, since no one else really knows how to do it. Also, Simon suffers from a lot of chronic illnesses and a weak immune system, hence the face mask, and he doesn't have much upper body strength, so we tend to do the heavy lifting while he does the... heavy _technical_ lifting?” Simon snickered at the taller man's poor joke.  
  
  
“By 'partner', do you mean, um -” Connor stammered.  
  
  
Markus put his arm around Simon and kissed his temple, causing the blonde to turn a light shade of pink. “Yes. _That_ kind of partner. We've been together for about two and a half years, and I personally couldn't be happier.”  
  
  
“As for me, though, I think I'd be happier if you at least wiped your shoes off before you came into the apartment -” Simon began, but Markus silenced him with another quick kiss.  
  
  
Connor was blushing as well from these obvious displays of affection. He was not only generally uncomfortable around romantic couples, but he was so used to only seeing men and women kissing each other that it almost felt scandalous to see two people right in front of him doing the same thing without any sort of repercussions. It made his chest feel funny.  
  
  
“Now, we'll go ahead and warn you, this place isn't all sunshine and rainbows,” Markus warned carefully. “These are people who are down on their luck, in danger, lost, scared. Not everyone will be friendly. I'm sure there are some people who come by who will be fine with sharing their experiences with you – ourselves included,” he pointed at himself and Simon, “but some come here just to get away from the ridicule, the attacks... A lot of people will want to be left alone for the most part. I'm sure you can understand why.”  
  
  
“I do, and I - I know that these kinds of places have a lot of troubled people,” Connor stuttered.  
  
  
“I figured you would know, but... I just want you to be aware that this place isn't for the faint of heart. We spread kindness and hope here, but there are some people that take more time to reach than others. Unfortunately, some people can't be reached at all. We still do what we can for them, though. Don't be discouraged if someone doesn't open up to your assistance right away. The world can do awful things to people with its unkindness. Which is why we exist. This is primarily a place for healing, and it's important to remember that it is a temporary home for those who are lost – not a permanent solution. We try to guide people in the right direction, and some find that direction sooner than others, so don't get too attached.”

  
“I understand,” Connor nodded. He had been to a homeless shelter before while running errands with Hank, who had decided to donate a huge box full of old clothes. Connor remembered the worn-down faces and tired eyes of the people inside the shelter. He remembered the permeating air of sadness that weighed heavily on his soul. “I will do my best to adjust to my surroundings and adapt as necessary.”

  
Simon tilted his head. “You're quite methodical, Connor. That's a very admirable trait.”  
  
  
Connor blushed again, twiddling his thumbs. “Thank you for saying so. Most of the time people say it makes me sound like... like I'm a robot, or something.”  
  
  
“Well, I think it makes you sound like you're potentially a very valuable member of our community,” declared Markus, clapping Connor on the shoulder with a more enthusiastic force this time. “We'll have to give you the grand tour. But first, I'd like to ask – does Hank know you're here? I'm asking simply because it looks like you walked here instead of getting dropped off.”  
  
  
Connor shook his head, looking down. “I left the house after he went to work. I was able to use some public transportation to get here, but there was quite a bit of walking, yes. I was... I wasn't sure that he would... approve of me being here.”  
  
  
“How so? Because of the part of town we're in, or -”  
  
  
“No, no, just... this... _kind_ of shelter.” His face flushed again.  
  
  
“Ah. So your father doesn't know about... _you,_ ” Markus spoke with an obvious note of sympathy.  
  
  
Connor nodded quietly. “I don't... I don't know when I should tell him... or _if_ I should tell him. There's so much that I don't even know about myself. But I think that working here will help me learn more. And... he doesn't have to know that it's for a specific _type_ of homeless people... not yet, anyway.”  
  
  
“Well, it's none of our business, so we're certainly not going to snitch on you,” offered Simon, a gentle smile gracing his soft features. “Plus, the more, the merrier. And the gayer,” he laughed.  
  
  
Markus rolled his eyes, ignoring Simon. “Please wait here a moment while I go talk to the other staff members, then we'll show you around.” He turned and took his leave, followed closely by Simon, who gave Connor one last friendly smile before they exited the room.  
  
  
As the two walked down the small corridor, Simon grabbed onto Markus' arm and piped up, “A new volunteer... finally, someone who can help me with all the paperwork!” He grinned eagerly, fidgeting with excitement. Unfortunately, he also started coughing, prompting Markus to thump him gently on the back.  
  
  
“Easy there, babe. We gotta see if we can trust him first. And he needs to see if he's comfortable enough to work here. There's probably a lot of things he's probably not used to seeing... we have to know if he can handle how bad things really get.”  
  
  
Simon's expression slowly shifted into a serious one. He hugged Markus' arm more tightly.  
  
  
“I know, Markus. I know.”


End file.
